The dress fit beautifully, so we finished the purchase and made our way to lunch. Mom had her heart set on a French restaurant not far from where we’d been shopping at Saks on Fifth Avenue. We called her driver to pick us up and took the short trip to the restaurant, leaving the dress in the car for safekeeping.
La Grenouille was a beautiful upscale bistro bursting with fresh floral arrangements and authentic retro-French décor that made you feel as if you had flown straight to Paris. It was a bit over the top for my taste, but my mother loved the place. We were quickly shown to our seats, and I had no more than picked up the menu when my mother greeted someone just behind me.
“Oh! What a pleasant surprise! Sofia, look who’s here.” Her voice sounded thin and a touch higher than normal.
I narrowed my eyes at her before turning around to greet the newcomer. I couldn’t have been more stunned if I had turned to see Santa Claus himself followed by his merry elves. Nico Conti stood towering over me, arms clasped behind his back, lips curved in an easy smile.
He was the last person I would have expected to find at La Grenouille.
My mouth dropped open, but nothing came out—no words, no air—my lips simply parted like a fish stranded ashore. Not just at the shock of seeing him, but also at how much he’d changed. Nico wasn’t the sixteen-year-old boy I’d last seen. At well over six feet and solid muscle, he was a fully developed man. He wore a white button-down shirt that stretched tight over his shoulders and biceps, testing the strength of the fabric. His hair was trimmed close on the sides, and his long waves on top were styled back, tamed with product to stay in place. My eyes slowly traced over each of his features, taking him in as if I was trying to memorize every square inch of him. When my gaze landed on his, I realized that his body might have changed, but his eyes were still that same deep blue I lost myself in so many years ago. I was no longer a fish gasping for air. Now, I was drowning in the raging waters of his oceanic gaze—fathomless, turbulent, and totally consuming.
“Nico,” Mom went on when I failed to say a word. “We were just talking about you yesterday. How are you?”
“Is that right?” he asked smoothly, never taking his eyes from mine. “I’m doing well, thank you.”
“You know what?” she said as she jumped from her chair. “I have to run to the little girl’s room. Nico, have a seat so you two can catch up.” She motioned him to sit before disappearing around the corner, all before I could make a single protest.
My eyes bounced back and forth between Nico and my mother’s treacherous departure.
She wouldn’t have—couldn’t have. Could she?
It was all too convenient, and as much as I didn’t want to believe it, it was rather obvious.
I’d been set up.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
Here I was, thinking of having a rare bonding moment with my mother, and she was busy stabbing me in the back. I knew she’d invited him to the party, but I never dreamed she would throw me to the wolves so entirely.
I wasn’t ready. I had known it was a possibility I’d see him at the party, but I thought I was going to have time to prepare for that—plan what I’d say and practice keeping my composure. Instead, my mother had taken the rug right out from under me, sending me flailing to my ass like an idiot.
Aside from shock, I couldn’t even pinpoint how I felt about seeing him. All my emotions collided and canceled each other out until nothing but shock and numbness remained, which was one small grace. It helped me pull myself together and pretend I wasn’t falling apart inside.
“You’ll have to excuse my rudeness. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” I clasped my hands tightly in my lap, attempting not to fidget, my eyes cast anywhere but at him.
“It’s good to see you, Ladybug,” he offered casually as if it had been days and not years since we’d seen one another.
His voice had matured and was now a gravelly rumble that filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies taking flight, but I hardly noticed. I was too focused on the fiery rage that heated me from the inside out. He had no right to use that name after everything he’d done. After all those years. Hot, angry tears burned at the back of my throat.
“Don’t you dare call me that,” I hissed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want any part of it.” I threw my napkin onto the table, but before I could stand, his hand came down on mine.
“Easy, Sofia,” he soothed in a calm tone. “I’m not here to upset you.”
“What other reason could you possibly have?” I scoured his features over the flickering votive candle, trying to decipher what was going on, but came up empty.
“Maybe I missed you.” His words were sweet and almost sounded earnest, which was why they made me laugh.
I leaned back in my chair, yanking my hand away from his and feeling my shattered armor repairing itself in record time. “Yeah, right. After seven years, you expect me to believe you woke up this morning and decided to see what I was up to?”
“Not at all. I expect you to believe that I wake up every morning thinking about you. You don’t just cross my mind; you live in it.” He held my eyes with such burning intensity that my gaze fused to his.
What was he implying? How could he say such a thing after he’d cast me away like yesterday’s garbage? I took in a shaky breath when my lungs screamed for air, then found the strength to drop my gaze. Every hour and every day of the interminable pain I suffered after he left crashed over me, washing away the numbness. There was no question how seeing him made me feel—it was the excruciating refracturing of a wound I’d thought long healed.
“Please, leave.” It was only a whisper, and all I could muster past the aching lump in my throat. I couldn’t even lift my gaze as he stood.
Nico bent to place an unexpectedly soft kiss on my forehead, his rough fingertips cupping my cheek. “I’m sorry, Sof.” His rumbled words constricted themselves around my heart, making it hard to breathe as he pulled away from me.
“Nico? Are you leaving so soon?” my mother asked from nearby in a boisterous voice. “You’re welcome to join us, you know.”
“I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Genovese, but I have somewhere to be. Take my card. It’s got my number on it. Maybe we can all get together sometime. It was lovely running into you both.”
“Oh … yes, of course. Please, keep in touch.” My mother reclaimed her seat and attempted to continue our luncheon as if nothing had happened, but it might as well have been a lunch for one. I couldn’t force down a single bite, nor could I stand to look at her. Instead, I sipped my water and counted the delicate petals on each fragrant rose in the bouquet beside our table. I made it to seven hundred and twenty before the nightmare was over and we left for home.
One would think I would have overcome the feeling of being utterly alone. It was not the first time I’d experienced it, or even the second, and it surely would not be the last. But each time, it hurt just as profoundly as the time before. Seeing him brought back the stabbing pain of loneliness. It was ironic because when we’d first become friends, Nico was my only refuge from that very same pain.
Chapter 5
Nico
Then
I wasn’t the same as the other kids at Xavier Catholic School. When they talked about their gaming systems and extravagant family vacations, it was easy to tell their families were different from mine. Their moms didn’t work and were able to come to school for class parties. They had bouncy castles and magicians at their birthday parties. We lived in a tiny two-bedroom house and had never been on a single family vacation.
One time when my parents were fighting, I heard my dad call my school a waste of goddamn money. My mom yelled back that she didn’t ask for much, and Xavier was where she drew the line. I guess Ma won the fight because they never moved me to public school.
I didn’t mind Xavier. The teachers were nice, and there was a huge playground with monkey bars. I was bigger and stronger than the other bo
ys in first grade, so I always won when we raced, especially on the monkey bars. I might not have been the same as the other kids, but being strong and fast helped me make friends.
About a week after I met the ladybug girl, I was surprised to see her sitting on a swing at my school during recess. I’d never noticed her at my school before, but there were lots of kids, and kindergarten through third grade all had recess together after lunch. She wasn’t swinging; she just sat on the swing staring down at the dirt below.
“Hey, Ladybug Girl. Did you always go to my school?” I asked, coming to stand in front of her.
When she lifted her eyes to look at me, she didn’t look like the same person. For a second, I wondered if I had been mistaken, but the red sneakers and yellow jacket were the same, and I was reassured that it was her.
She didn’t say a word, just nodded.
“What grade are you in?” I asked out of curiosity, wondering how I’d never noticed her before.
“Kindergarten,” she said in a small voice.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I could tell she was upset. “Are you okay?”
She thought for a minute before shaking her head.
The swing next to her was empty, so I sat down. “You want me to get a teacher?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Is there anything I can do?”
This time, when she looked at me to answer, a tear slipped down her cheek. I remembered her excitement at hunting for ladybugs and the way her smile had made me smile in return. I wanted more than anything to bring that happiness back to her face.
“Hey, Nico! Come race me! I’ve been practicing and know I can beat you this time,” one of the boys called out as he came to stand by the swings. Several more kids joined him, waiting for my answer.
“Nah, not right now. You guys race without me.”
“Come on, Nico,” pushed one of the other boys. “Don’t waste your time with her. Sofia’s being weird and won’t talk anymore. Come play with us on the monkey bars.”
I wasn’t sure why his words upset me, but they made me want to shove him to the ground. “Shut up, John. I don’t want to race with you guys anyway,” I barked back at him with a glare.
The kids walked away mumbling “fine” and “whatever” until it was just me and the girl again. We sat quietly for a minute, just watching the other kids playing as we kicked at the loose dirt below us.
“You like to swing?” I finally asked her, not sure if she’d answer.
She looked over at me, and there was a tiny hint of light in her eyes that hadn’t been there moments before as she gave me a nod. I pushed myself back and start swinging, and she did the same. We spent the rest of recess on the swings together, not saying a word.
Each day that week played out the same. When I came out to recess, she’d already be on the swings just sitting there. Once I’d join her, we’d begin to swing.
On Friday, when recess ended and we had to go back to our classes, I stopped her and gave her a small smile. “Bye, Ladybug Girl. I’ll see you next week.”
For the first time all week, she smiled, and my chest filled with warmth and an intense happiness I’d never known existed.
From that moment on, I was hers.
Chapter 6
Sofia
Now
After Marco’s death, I kept my mouth shut about what I’d seen. For a while, I didn’t say anything at all. Not a word. They attributed it to grief, and some of it was, but it was also the trauma of witnessing my brother’s death.
When Marco was killed, the story my parents told to the world was he had died in a mugging gone wrong. My mom explained that two masked men had attacked my dad while trying to steal money from him. She had lied, but I had no idea why and was too heartbroken to argue.
My mom and sisters cried—even Maria, and she never cried—but I couldn’t.
I was defective.
Instead, I withdrew into my art. I painted dark abstracts and broken people for hours on end.
While I painted, my mind would wander. I’d try to decide if I could have done anything differently to help. I debated why my mom and dad would lie and how my dad could fight like the action heroes on TV. I contemplated why my father would have left Marco behind.
The answers weren’t quick to come, but over time, I put the pieces together.
As I grew up, I watched my family with a critical eye. They never figured out I knew, but I did. I knew about everything. Every secret. Every lie. Our entire family tree was built on them. How do you learn to trust the people closest to you when they look you in the eyes and lie to your face?
Lie after lie.
Never truth.
The one place there was any honesty was in my studio. In my art.
That was where I found myself the day after my luncheon fiasco with my mother—allowing my emotions to bleed out onto the canvas. Sometimes, I had a specific image in mind when I began to paint, and sometimes, I started a painting without the slightest clue of where the brushes would take me.
Tonight was one of those nights.
The painting had started as a portrait of a young woman, but strokes of yellow and green wound their way around her, snakes curving around her upper arm and into her wavy hair. Her eyes held a sadness, but she wasn’t afraid. The snakes weren’t her enemies; they were a part of her.
“Your work is remarkable, always has been.” My dad’s rumbling voice filled the room, and I glanced back in greeting.
Considering his occupation, he could seem surprisingly ordinary. He looked like any other middle-aged man, well dressed and fit. He was attractive but otherwise average to the unsophisticated eye. I was always torn on my feelings toward him. I respected that he’d taken down the men who killed my brother, but if it hadn’t been for his choices in life, my brother would have likely still been alive. Because of that, I’d never been able to get close to him. However, the older I got, the more leeway I gave him because I realized that my genes had come directly from him, and I was no better.
“Thanks, Dad. You need something?” I asked, setting down my brush. I cut right to the chase because I wasn’t interested in company. My mood had remained decidedly dark since the day before.
“Not really. I wanted to thank you for indulging your mother with the party. You know how much she loves her parties.”
“Yeah, I know, even if she is meddling where she has no business,” I griped, eyes on my fidgeting hands.
“Try to remember there are two sides to every story.”
Is that what you’d say if I invited your enemies over for tea? I desperately wanted to ask but kept my lips tightly sealed. He knew I wanted nothing to do with Nico, yet he still supported my mother in her plotting. “I’m an adult, Dad. I don’t need either of you trying to arrange happy reunions on my behalf.” The words were clipped as I glared at my father.
He pursed his lips and lifted his chin. “I’m afraid it’s a little late. When your mother told me she’d run into Nico, I suggested she invite him for dinner.”
“Just cancel. Things come up all the time. Tell him we have an illness in the family.”
Dad raised his brows, then cast his gaze toward the hallway.
“Tonight? He’s here now?” I spat incredulously.
He gave a tight, apologetic smile.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Surely, my mom could tell after our painfully awkward lunch that pushing the issue wouldn’t be a good idea. Surely, she had more common sense than that.
Yet judging from my father’s grimace, the answer was no. No, she didn’t.
“No problem,” I said, turning back to my canvas, ears hot with anger. “You guys enjoy your dinner.”
“Sofia,” Dad warned coolly.
“I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”
“You may be an adult, but that doesn’t excuse you from being rude. Members of this family do not hide in their rooms when we have a gues
t.” His tone was absolute. He was not going to budge on the subject.
I didn’t want to start my stay with my parents bogging us all down in an ugly fight. After years of practice biting my tongue, I could put the skill to use, then make damn sure my parents understood this was never, ever to happen again. “Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Though the words were a concession, nothing was conciliatory about my tone. I wanted there to be no misunderstanding that I was not happy about this.
“Good girl,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke my hair. “You know we only want what’s best for you.” He gave one more tight smile, then left the room.
Once I was alone, my lungs deflated, and my shoulders curved inward. In less than twenty-four hours, I was being forced to face Nico for a second time. At least I had a moment to compose myself before our next exchange.
I grabbed my phone to go clean up and noticed a text from Michael.
You surviving your family?
I huffed out a laugh at the accuracy of his question. That was what I did when I was with my family—survived. I was never happy. I just drifted from one day to the next.
I suppose. If I need to be rescued, I’ll let you know. Rescued. Why should I need to be rescued from my own family? I wasn’t a child anymore. Didn’t I have the strength to take control of my life rather than let them lead me along like a trained retriever?
Lunch tomorrow?
I’m helping my mom get ready for graduation. Next week?
Sounds good.
The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. If my parents insisted I joined them for dinner, then I would do it on my terms. Hell, if I truly wanted, I didn’t have to stay at their house. Not everything in life was a choice, but I had to take ownership of the things under my control. It was easy to bitch and moan about things just because they were hard, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a choice. Sometimes, circumstances made that choice a difficult one, but it was still a choice.
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